


The Tree

by futurelounging



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Tree, F/M, Fluff, holiday feels, tending to wounds and snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:57:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurelounging/pseuds/futurelounging
Summary: Fergus tests himself to do something special for Marsali. This is set in the Scalamandre universe after the events of the final chapter.





	The Tree

Fergus’s breath clouded his face, his chapped lips parting as the air whooshed from his lungs. The sloping earth beneath his feet left him unsteady and he pressed his boot against the protruding roots of a tree. He’d not eaten in some time and he felt his muscles quivering as he picked up the axe. Sweat beaded on his brow, freezing as a gust of wind cut through the trees. The moisture gathering on his eyelashes began to turn to ice and he swiped a gloved hand across his eyes to clear them.

His chest burned, but he couldn’t stop now. Not as the sun fell low in the sky. Though it never fully descended below the horizon at this time of year, it still afforded much-needed heat. His toes were already numbing in his boots.

“You’re a goddamned fool,” he spoke into the frigid air. He had barely had time to begin learning climbing and survival skills with Hugh before winter fell over them all. It was quick and brutal, a slap in the face after the joy of surviving the disease and the beginning of rebuilding their world. So many in the remote parts of the Highlands had nothing, still clinging to dwindling food stores and stubborn distrust. Inverness had churned to life, but it would be years before the world began to resemble its former self.

For Fergus, it was not the former world he wished for, but a new one. Purpose and strength now raced through his blood. Jamie and Claire had given him that. The return of his mother had given him hope and gratitude. Hugh had given him the brave truth of believing in himself. And Marsali, he wasn’t quite sure if he could articulate what she had given him. Their friendship had taken off upon meeting, a skiff dropped in a current. He thought of her bright smile often, how it transformed her face and spoke to his own, pulling a smile on his whenever he saw her. Even now, freezing and tired in the wilderness, he smiled at the thought of her.

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining he could smell her, the sweet almond and floral scent that swirled around her. It warmed him and he took a deep breath of the pine-rich air. Pulling the axe back and steadying his prosthetic hand on the trunk of the tree, he swung low. The axe sliced a small notch and he sighed, disappointed in how little progress he’d made. There was no time. He pulled it back again and swung, and again, wood chips scattering over the snow. He was sweating, dangerous in the dropping temperatures, but he had to go on.

His shoulder ached as he worked, but soon he felt the tree begin to list. One more swing and a push and it toppled over, catching on another tree. He chopped through the base and cut the rough bottom flat across before dropping the axe into the snow, his chest heaving. He was freezing and tired, but he wanted to cry with joy. He’d done it.

Fergus secured the axe to his pack and tied a rope around the trunk and over a few branches, enough to allow him to pull it. The light was low and he felt the urgent push of night’s arrival. Maneuvering the tree down the slope of the mountain was a great deal more difficult than he’d imagined, the tree catching on rocks and branches, his own feet stumbling at the awkward weight of it.

He could see the land begin to flatten out just ahead and his steps picked up, wrapping the rope around his wrist for leverage. The tree snagged on something and jerked him back, but his hand was caught in the rope and he fell to his side, reaching instinctively with his prosthetic hand to break his fall. His arm crumpled at the impact and his face hit the ground, the sharp edge of a broken rock slicing his cheek.

“Oomph!” He felt bruises forming along his side and the warm trickle of blood oozing from the stinging cut along his cheekbone. He rolled onto his knees and pushed himself up slowly, carefully taking inventory and breathing a sigh of relief that his ankles appeared to be unscathed.

Quite a bit worse for wear, Fergus secured the rope over his shoulder again and continued, a small smile forming on his face. He caught just a slight whiff of it on the air. Wood smoke. The snow deepened as the trees gave way to the open sky, stars puncturing the dark blue like pinpricks. His heart swelled in his chest and a wave of emotion caught him unaware, bringing tears to his eyes. This ancient land, this new home, was unconcerned with the hopes of man.

Fergus carved a messy trail through the snow along the stream, clear ice a window to the bubbling current below. Cresting one last hill, the lights cast a glow over the land before him, dim shadows of naked trees silhouetting against the field dotted with rabbit tracks. The wood smoke filled the air again and his smile grew wide.

At the front door of the small cottage, the grey stone walls white in the moonlight, he propped the tree up and knocked gently. The room behind her was lit only by the orange glow of the fireplace and his breath caught in his throat at how perfect she was. She wore an oversized wool jumper, curled over her fingers and thick socks scrunched up along the bottom of her leggings. She looked sleepy and warm and something out of a dream.

“Fergus!” It took her a moment to get over the surprise of seeing him standing outside her door, in the frozen snow, holding up a freshly cut fir tree, before she noticed his disheveled appearance and cut cheek. “What are ye… What happened?”

“I’ve a Christmas tree for you, Marsali.”

“Did ye wrestle a bear for it?” She stepped aside to let him pull it in, needles raining on the entry rug.

Now that it was inside, it seemed a great deal larger than it had looked in the forest and he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

She reached for him, her fingers holding his chin as she inspected his cut, brow furrowed. “Will ye let me tend to yer face once we get this tree situated?” She dropped her hand and he smiled and nodded.

She pulled out the tree stand and moved an end table to make room and after a few minutes of pushing the tree this way and that, they’d secured it in a relatively upright position and filled the basin with water. They scrubbed the sap from their fingers and she pushed him to the sofa where he gratefully collapsed.

The water from the cloth she held to his cheek followed the curve of his jaw, trailing through his stubble until it gathered in the hollow of his throat. Her eyes moved from the cloth to his eyes and back again, an uncertain dance of proximity and a fluttering air between them filled with unspoken feelings.  

“What about yer arm? Ye said ye fell upon it.” She pulled his arm away from his side gently, but firmly, accepting no protest. Pushing the sleeve of his shirt up, she looked at him, silently asking his permission. He nodded and she began removing the prosthetic. His forearm was bruised lightly but growing darker. She retrieved an ice pack and held it for him, humming some nameless tune, a subconscious attempt to soothe him. Everything she did felt like it was touched by some magic, as if she could will away his discomfort.

She stayed at his side while he sipped tea and devoured biscuits, crumbs gathering on his lap. And when he’d finished and his eyes grew heavy, she settled into his side and turned to him, almost too close to focus. “Thank ye for the tree, Fergus.”

His head dipped shyly and he turned to her, their breaths dusting over each other’s lips.

When asked days later, as they gathered at Lallybroch to celebrate Christmas with the Murrays and the Frasers, recently returned from Switzerland, they would both insist they had been the one to lean in for their first kiss.


End file.
